A young woman pushed her way through the low laying branches in the small patch of trees near her house. Something was disturbing the chickens near her house, and she was thinking the neighbor's dog had got loose again. That would mark the third time this month, and if it happened again, she was going to-

"Gaston! What are you doing here?" Belle asked. "Why aren't you home?"

"He'll look for me there!" He grumbled. The trees barely provided cover for the hulking man who was trying to hide there.

"Who will?"

Gaston thrust a letter in her face.

"Oh," She began reading, "Oh! How nice! Your brother is coming to town from Paris!"

"No!" Gaston replied angrily, "It's not nice. Anton is an overbearing brute who thinks he's classier and better than everyone else!"

"Oh really?" Belle asked coyly. "Is that so?"

"Yes!" He shouted. "To top it off, he married the Countess of Avignon and walks around with that royal title at the tip of his tongue. Anton, the Count of Avignon!"

"So, why are you hiding?" Belle knew the answer.

"I don't like him. No one has to see Gaston if I don't want them to!" He smiled devilishly at Belle. "But you're welcome to see me as long as you like…"

"Sorry, Gaston, but I really must be getting to the market. Try not to disturb the geese, okay?" She left in a hurry, leaving Gaston with the letter and a heavy lump in the pit of his stomach.

"How much for the fish?"

"Thirteen francs." The fishmonger replied.

Belle frowned. "That's a bit too expensive."

"Belle! Belle!" A tiny voice called out and she turned to see LeFou standing very close to her. "Have you seen Gaston?"

"I can't say that I have." She replied honestly.

"Oh darn! Anton…I mean, the Count of Avignon is going to be here any moment now and I only have half a proper receiving party." LeFou explained hurriedly.

"A what?" Belle waved nine francs in front of the fishmonger, and he nodded. Taking the fish, she watched as LeFou pulled out a wrinkled letter from his pocket.

"The Royal Count of Avignon is pleased to announce he will be gracing his hometown of Molynenon with his presence in three days. Required to be assembled as a formal receiving party are the Count's brother, Gaston, the town elders, flower bearers and the finest young ladies to greet the Count. Be assembled at town square at precisely noon."

LeFou eyed Belle. "You're it! Gaston is always saying you're the most beautiful girl in town!" He grabbed her hand.

"But Gaston is-" Belle started.

"Probably out hunting." LeFou finished. "Come on, we got to greet the Count in five minutes!" He pulled her off towards the square.

A magnificent carriage, drawn by two stately gray stallions, was the talk of the little village. Made of the finest German oak, adorned with brass leafing and carvings, crystal that served as mock windows, it was truly a sight to behold and worthy of royalty. LeFou, per Anton's order, gathered the proper receiving party for the Count and anxiously awaited him to exit the carriage.

The driver dismounted the front seat, swinging his body lazily towards the doors. He opened it with a sarcastic flourish, allowing the crowd a chance to glance inside. In less than a flash, a tall, blond man in a gold and royal blue tailcoat emerged. His shining black boots and tan trousers complimented his ensemble, as did his muscular physique. He glanced around at the crowd, beaming with a smile brighter than ten suns.

"Greetings, simple villages!" Anton exclaimed loudly.

Belle couldn't believe her eyes or ears. He was even more ridiculous looking than she thought, and the ornate carriage was a little too gaudy, even for someone from Gaston's family.

"I have come all the way from the Court of Avignon to grace you with my presence, as well as to visit my brother Gaston," He smirked. "You can say that that little runt isn't exactly the pick of the litter, right, LeFou?"

"Of course, Anton, of course!" LeFou cackled at Anton's jibe.

Belle was shocked. Was this man actually worse than Gaston?

"Fret not about my tiresome brother," Anton continued, his voice beaming, "for I, the Count of Avignon, am here. Tonight, for you lucky folks, my brother and I will dine with one of your households. We will be giving you the pleasure of our compan-"

"Bonjour, Anton."

The Count spun on his heel. Gaston stood behind him, hands folded around his musket, a sour look on his face.

"Oh, Gaston!" Anton mocked, "Are you still hunting? What a dirty, tired occupation. You should have outgrown it and managed the tavern instead."

"I DO manage the tavern."

Anton laughed. "Is it that dump little building over there? What kind of businessman doesn't make improvements? I bet you don't even stock the latest Parisian wines, do you?"

Gaston stood silent, fingers tightening on his gun.

Anton's strong hand gripped Gaston's shoulder, and he began to berate his brother even more intensely.

"Gee, it's upsetting to see this, Gaston
How all of these people love you
I really, truly can't believe it, Gaston
Is he their hero, LeFou?

"There's one man who stands above Gaston, I'm sure
And now I think you all will see
That man whose perfection is right here today
And you know that that man would be me

"No one's rich like Anton
Fills a niche like Anton
Has everything coming from zilch like Anton
For there's no one to fumble and fawn on
Like me, the Count of Avignon
I'm handsome, amazing and laud on
And you see how I'm so much better than Gaston

"No one's strong like Anton
Never wrong like Anton
About himself, writes a whole song like Anton
Don't you ever forget that I'm royalty!
Anton, the Count Avignon!"

Belle couldn't bear to watch another moment of this. Despite the villagers' laughter, she stepped forward and shook her finger in the Count's face.

"You can't talk about people like that!" Belle stated angrily, "Gaston is your brother and you shouldn't make fun of him to the people in this town. They love him, for whatever reason, and you should be ashamed of yourself!"

"Well, well, aren't you lovely?" Anton cooed. "My dear, what's your name?"

"Belle."

"Belle! Well, my dear girl, since you feel so passionately about my brother, we will dine with you and your family this evening!" Anton announced, strolling away with welcoming party.

"But…but I…" Belle struggled to find her words, even more stunned than before.

"Nice move, Belle!" Gaston scoffed behind her. "Now we both have to have dinner that stuffed shirt. I don't suppose you know how to roast pheasant?"

"I do, but we haven't any pheasant at all." She explained.

"It's his favorite meal, so I'll take care of that part." The hunter proudly brandished his musket. "Just do your errands and I'll have the meal ready."

Belle blinked. "You can cook?"

"Of course! No one cooks like Gaston!" He grinned. "Heck, no one looks like Gaston!"

She couldn't help but smile. It was good to see some of his luster return and she couldn't resist joining in.

"No one reads good books like Gaston?"

"Don't push it. You and your father should be ready for dinner at six sharp." Gaston hurried along the path to the forest, intent on bringing to dinner the fattest pheasant he could find.

The aromas coming from Belle's house assaulted her nostrils as she made her way down the path. It had been a while since she and her father had the luxury of such food, but she knew all of the smells - the hearty, crisp scent of roasting pheasant, the sage and rosemary used to season it, a hearty beef and mushroom soup and- pie? Did she see a pie cooling on her windowsill?

Gaston was bustling like a madman when she entered the house.

"No, no, Maurice!" He was lecturing her father. "The soup spoon goes outside the teaspoon!"

Belle stifled a laugh, but Gaston noticed anyway.

"Is something funny?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I never imagined you to be so…domestic."

"Well, I don't have a wife to do these things…" He grinned earnestly. "…yet."

"I don't think so, Gaston," She inhaled the wonderful aroma again, "You'd never catch me cooking if I had a husband who cooked like this. Not that that husband would be you." Belle sauntered over to the pie, glaring intently at it.

"Don't touch the pie! It's boysenberry and it's his favorite!" Gaston quipped,

Belle couldn't help but laugh again. "Did you go berry picking on your hunt?"

"That not the point!" Gaston grimaced, hustling back to the kitchen, "Anton will be here in fifteen minutes and you aren't even-"

A knock sounded at the door and Belle peered out the periscope.

"It's Anton!"

"Go, wash up, and get ready!" Gaston pushed Maurice and Belle up the stairs. "I'll handle this."

The hulking man took one last glance in the kitchen, then the mirror, smoothing out his hair. He opened the door and the Count of Avignon strolled in.

"Hello, gentle peasant." The Count greeted, and then paused. "Gaston! You're already here!"

"Of course, Anton. I'm never late."

Anton shrugged. "Listen, brother, I don't mind you addressing me so informally in private, but when we are with company, could you please call me Count?"

"Count on it." Gaston punned.

Belle and Maurice emerged made their way down the stairs. Maurice was dressed in his Sunday best: a tie, collared shirt and black coat. His brunette daughter wore a simple pink dress and had her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, tied with a pink ribbon. Gaston couldn't help but notice that the simplicity of her style only amplified her natural beauty.

"Enchanté, mademoiselle," Anton took Belle's hand and kissed it. His brother fumed silently.

"Well then, shall we dine?" Maurice asked.

Belle pulled out the chair at the head the table and motioned towards the Count of Avignon.

"Please, be our guest."

"…and you wouldn't believe it! There was my poor mother, already heartbroken because I was leaving for Paris, and in come Gaston, his head nearly split open. My mother was so funny, she said, 'I didn't plan on two sons leaving me today!'"

Maurice chuckled along at another one of the Count's stories about growing up in town. He had been relating them endlessly since the soup was first served, in between bites of food and sometimes, with his mouth full. The meal was over, dessert was long finished and still, Anton felt the need to "entertain" them with more stories about himself.

Belle could tell that Gaston had worked hard on this meal, and the Count was just shoveling it into his mouth with reckless abandon, not caring to taste or appreciate any of it. Belle appreciated the food, and hoped her small smile to Gaston was enough of an encouragement to make up for Anton's lack of approval.

"The meal was fantastic!" Maurice praised. "Wouldn't you agree, Belle? Didn't Gast-"

Gaston cleared his throat. "Indeed, such excellent food! Belle, you are quite the little cook. The most scrumptious pheasant and delicious pie I've ever tasted. You've really outdone yourself."

Belle took the hint. "Why thank you, Gaston. I really enjoyed eating it almost as much as cooking it."

The Count turned to the old man. "So, Maurice, what do you do?"

"Well, I was a merchant…" Maurice began.

"A fine occupation! Why the ramshackle house then?" The Count interrupted.

"Well, like I was saying, I was a merchant, " Maurice began again, "but after my Clarice died, I had to follow my dream. I quit being a merchant and become an inventor."

Anton raised an eyebrow. "What did you invent?"

"A machine that chops wood automatically."

"Does it work?"

"Well, there are still a few kinks to…"

Once again, Maurice was cut off, this time by the Count's laugher.

"Crazy old Maurice!" He exclaimed between breaths. "Crazy old Maurice! An inventor with a dreamer for a daughter!" He continued his roaring laughter.

Gaston and Belle did their best to control their rising anger. Anton, however, failed to notice he was pushing their limits and prattled on.

"A beautiful daughter, indeed, yes! But the people in town have told me all about Belle - does she bother to go in to town, make friends, find a job? No! Ha-ha, she READS! Hahahahaha!

"Not to mention, she's not a very good cook either! Why, that was the driest bird I've ever eaten in my life, and there must have been fifteen thousand cups of sugar in that pie, it was awfully sweet and almost disgusting!"

Gaston stood up.

"I think we should leave, Anton."

"I told you," The Count hissed, "don't call me-"

"I know, Anton, but it is time for us to go." Gaston argued, a defiant tone rising in his voice. "You've done nothing but sit here, insult Maurice and Belle in their own house, degrade me, and make fun of the food. I find you've quite overstayed a welcome you never had. Maurice and Belle might not be glamorous, but they are good people. I might not be royalty, but I'm three times the man you'll ever be, you inconsiderate jerk!"

Anton rose from his seat quickly.

"Are you angry, brother?" He mocked. "Did I hurt your feelings? That you actually want to marry into this family? Maybe Maurice isn't the only joke around here…maybe you are, too! Not to mention Belle!"

That was the last straw. Before the Count of Avignon had a chance to blink, his brother reared back and soaked him clean on the jaw. Anton stumbled to the floor, with Maurice and Belle looking on with wide eyes and open mouths.

"How dare you! You'll pay for that, brother!" Anton stormed out of the house.

Gaston had indeed paid for his punch. The Count decreed that for assaulting a royal, Gaston would spend a day and a night in the stocks in town square. As of that evening, that's exactly where Gaston had been all day.

It hadn't been too bad. LeFou had kept him company for a few hours, while the triplets had brought him water and rubbed his neck. Anton left early that afternoon without so much as a goodbye to his brother, but Gaston had noticed the bandage wrapped around the Count's head and had never been happier.

But late evening had brought everyone back home, leaving Gaston with nothing to do and no one talk to.

"Hi."

Gaston sighed. "I can't look that far to the left. Who's there?"

"It's Belle," She stepped out in front of him.

"Oh, hello Belle. You didn't come to laugh at me, did you?"

"No, actually," She ran her fingers through her hair, "I came to say thank you."

"For?"

"Standing up to your brother. It was nice to see you think about someone other than yourself for a change." She explained.

"I was happy to do it." He boasted. "No one stands up to annoying family members like Gaston!"

"Right." He was bound to be back to normal sooner than later. But before he became too egotistical for her to bear, she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Gaston. Thank you again." Belle started back towards home.

"Wait!" The hunter was excited by the sudden display of affection. "Wait! We'll wake up the minister! I can get married in stocks, can't I? Come back, Belle!"